The first couple of drawers she tried were obviously on Gil’s side of the desk. File folders, nothing interesting in them. Proposals in acetate covers, word-processed financial reports. She knelt, removed an armful, and started to thumb through them. Nothing here. Nothing at all. She began to replace them.
Brenda froze, holding a bunch of documents in her hand. Duarto was singing.
“Someday my preence weel come.”’ Jesus, she half-laughed in her panic.
Leave it to Duarto to go camp even as he warned her, she thought, and she ducked down into the leg well of the desk. She crouched as low as she could, realizing that for the first time since she was a little girl, she could touch her knees to her chin. As she heard the door swing open on its hinges, she pressed deeper into the well, but her hips wedged tightly against the sides.
“Duarto,” she heard Prince call in his clipped accent. “Are you in here? Mrs. Griffin is on the phone for you.”
From a distance outside the room, Brenda heard Duarto answer, “I’m out here, Preence, een the hall.” Duarto’s voice was in the room now “Shall I take the call een here?”
“Yes,’ Prince said, adding, “the line on the desk phone that’s lit up.”
With a sigh of relief Brenda heard Prince close the door behind him as he left.
“Brenda, where are chou?” Duarto called out in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m stuck under the desk, Duarto. Get me out.” She saw his legs and feet approach, but he didn’t bend down to help her.
“Chust one meenute, cara. Good morning, Mrs. Greeffeen. Yes, but chust for the hall for now.” Brenda heard Duarto’s best clientvoice and realized she would just have to sit it out. Suddenly she thought, I never knew I had a scar on my knee! I wonder when I got that? Then she remembered the roller-skating accident when she was nine. And I haven’t been able to get my knees this close to my eyes since. Thank you, Bernie and Roy.
“Of course, Mrs. Greeffeen. We weel rush. We weel be ready very soon. We are working day and night.” He paused. “Yes, I’m here weeth my girl. She has a very good eye.”
My girl, my ass, Brenda thought. He’s going to pay for that.
Duarto finally hung up the phone and peered under the desk.
“Oh! Cara. There chou are.” He extended his hand to her. Brenda pulled on him but couldn’t move. Duarto started to laugh, although he tried his best not to.
Brenda began to laugh also. “Don’t, Duarto. I’m afraid I’m going to wet my pants. Just get me the fuck out of here!”
Duarto reached down, braced himself, and pulled Brenda’s legs straight out in front of her. Then he tugged. Three heaves and he moved her enough so that she could wriggle until she freed herself.
“I didn’t realize that space was so small, cara.” He had stopped laughing, but the glint of a smile was still in his eyes.
Brenda got to her knees, then pulled herself to her feet. “Duarto, you’re both a pig and one of the sweetest men I know. Now just let me put back these files, finish this side of the desk, and we’re out of here.” Brenda turned her attention to Mary’s side and began opening and closing drawers. Nothing of interest. Nothing, until she tried to pull out the bottom drawer. Locked, she realized. Goddamnit. She looked at Duarto and saw him smiling as he reached into his trouser pocket and came up with a small brass key on a ring.
”I must have forgotten to geeve the extra key to the Greeffeens when the desk was delivered. Tomorrow weel be soon enough.” He shrugged.
Brenda kissed him hard on his mouth, then turned and unlocked the drawer. All of it was Japanese, she saw that right away. Sony, Nissan, Mitsui, Awai, Maibeibi. Pay dirt! But how could she know which to take? She couldn’t take them all. What to do? She saw a file marked Memos—Japanese Acquisition. She took it out first. Maybe there’d be something to clarify it all in there. And there it was!
She picked up the document and waved it in front of Duarto, her eyes glistening.
” Confidential, Memo to Mary Birmingham from Gil Griffin. Re, Maibeibi Research Acquisition versus Mitsui Disinformation.”
” ”Lucy, Lucy, you found it,” Duarto mimicked.
“Come on, Ethel, let’s get out of here,” Brenda said, stuffing the memo and the Maibeibi file under her sweater.
Twenty-five stories above Elise’s office at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, the three friends sat in the Rainbow Room, New York’s oldest drinkswith-a-view bar. The view of the sunset from their table was spectacular, and the setting sun cast a red-orange glow over the file laid out in front of them on the white linen tablecloth.
After a moment of silence spent gazing out the window, Brenda finally said, ‘There you have it. I’ve gone over the figures with a finetooth comb, and the net of it is”—she indicated the Maibeibi file— “this isn’t just a good company, it’s a great company. The only reason I can see why it isn’t making a fortune is the shipyards. If Mr. Tanaki closed them down and sold the land to real estate developers, he’d be in the black again with a large cash reserve for more profitable acquisitions. ‘ “Easier said than done,” Elise said. ‘Remember, he’s a traditional Japanese businessman. Even though land in Japan is at a premium, the shipyards division was the base for the entire company.
His father started with it. And despite the fact that the electronics end is their most profitable, he’s not going to put tradition aside and put all those people out of work.”
Brenda, crestfallen, said, ‘I thought it was too easy.” After a moment, she continued, ‘Then why not sell it as a shipyard? Isn’t there anyone who needs a shipyard in Japan?”
Now Annie chimed in. “Maybe there is, but they haven’t asked because it’s known Tanaki doesn’t sell.”
”Then what about a trade instead?”’ Brenda said brightly. ‘Who has something Tanaki would trade for?”
The three women looked at each other, then Annie and Brenda turned to Elise.
“I don’t!” Elise said, the surprise showing in her voice.
“Aren’t you two going to see Bob Bloogee? I bet he has something in his toy chest he’d like to swap with another overgrown little boy. ” Brenda, once again, had cut two business giants down to a more manageable size.
“You know that I’m doing this only for you,” Annie reminded Eliqe as they got out of the limo in front of River House, probably the most exclusive co-op in the city. “I’ve been extricating myself from these charity committees since Sylvie was born. And spending time with Gunilla and Lally is not my idea of fun.”
“Yes, it’s an ordeal, and I’m forever grateful, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera,” said Elise, rolling her eyes. “But what could I do? You were the only one I could count on not to let Bette get into too much trouble, and not broadcast her phenomenal stupidity. Not that the world hasn’t already noticed.” Elise sighed. “Lally has been an utter bitch to the poor girl. At least she and Gunilla won’t be here today.
And you also have something riding on Uncle Bob’s reaction to Brenda’s swapping’ suggestion. And,” Elise continued, “you know Uncle Bob is the key to Gil Griffin. If we’re serious about evening the score with Gil, we need Bob’s support, and to get it you’ll sit on this subcommittee with Bette, and I’ll present the Maibeibi scenario to Uncle Bob.”
“A high price to pay,” Annie grumbled, but she smiled.
The planning for these parties meant a great deal of work for a small reward.
The affairs often cost hundreds of thousands and brought in only a small percentage of that for the charities. They were really an excuse for the women to flex their muscles and to dress up. That meant that the organizers fought small wars over the decor, the theme, the menus, and the seating arrangements.
Especially the seating arrangements.
It was a sign of social prestige to be asked to serve on a committee, assuming you hadn’t simply bought your way on as Mary Griffin had. But to Annie it was all tiresome. Now the committee had broken into small groups, and Bette, she, and Elise were in charge of tickets and seating. But though she complained, Annie had actually found herself enjoying Bette. She was, to put it mildly, refreshingly unpretentious.
“I’ll need to spend some time with Uncle Bob on this Maibeibi deal.
I’m not sure that after the Mitsui fiasco I have much credibility, so I’ll need time to convince him. Time alone, so keep her talking.”
“It isn’t keeping her talking, it’s getting her to stop that I worry about.”
They entered the building, passed the concierge desk, and took the elevator up to the penthouse floor. There are penthouses and there are penthouses, Annie thought, surveying the huge marble-tiled entrance gallery that was roughly the size of her entire apartment. A uniformed butler led them in. Before them, an enormous Sargent, a painting of three women in dressing gowns, dominated the twenty-foot-high wall. On either side, arches flanked by marble columns led into the salon, where Bette lay stretched on a recalmier, dressed in exactly the same satin robe as the central woman in the Sargent portrait.
“She’s putting us on,” Annie murmured to Elise.
” Fraid not,” Elise told her, and swept into the ornate chamber, her hand out to her “aunt.”
“Bette, dear. How wonderful to see you!” Bette Bloogee rose from the divan. ‘Hoy, Elise,” she said in the unmistakable accent of Bayonne.
‘Hoy, Annie. Good ta see ya. I was dyin’ ta tell ya the news. We sold out every seat in da house. There ain’t a table left.”’ “That’s great!” Annie said.
“No kiddin’!” Bette agreed. ‘Those poor peopul with the ca-ca talk disease will get a lot of help now. Right?”’ “Tourette syndrome, Bette,” Elise corrected gently.
“Yeah, yeah, I know but I keep forgettin’. Jeer, you want to hear bad language, you shoulda heard me. Before Bob cracked down on me, I used to talk like that, too. No offense meant, right?”’ It was mesmerizing to watch her, Annie thought. She was one of the most breathtakingly beautiful young women that Annie had ever seen. Her hair was auburn, lustrous and thick. Now it was tied up loosely with a black velvet ribbon, but when undone, it must cascade to the girl’s small waist.
Her skin was pale and clear, unblemished by the tiniest freckle. Her turquoise blue eyes were enormous. fringed with thick black lashes.
She was a ravishing creature, physically perfect, yet, when she spoke.
perceptual dissonance set in, how could such unappealing sounds pass from those perfect pink lips? But they did. Over and over again.
Annie felt an almost overwhelming need to giggle.
“So, like, ya wanna beer or something’? Anythin’ ya like.”
Elise said she’d like some coffee, and Annie managed a nod.
“Regular or black?”
But just then the butler returned and hearing her question, cleared his throat. He carried a sterling coffee service on an immense silver tray. He walked slowly and carefully with the heavy burden. ‘Don’t rupture yourself,” Bette warned him, and jumped to help.
The three women moved to the seats around a Louis Quinze fruitwood table.
Annie couldn’t help but admire it. Tiny cherubs danced around the table edge, all shaped in various shades of satinwood. the garlands that stretched between them perfect in each tiny detail. It was a masterpiece of the ebeniste’s art.
“What a wonderful piece!” she exclaimed.
“You like it, it’s yours,” Bette offered.
The butler cleared his throat. Bette looked at him. He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, come on, Smitty. Let me do it. Bob says I can if I want.” She turned to Elise and Annie. “Smith here gets pissed when I give shit away. But we have so much, what’s the diff?” She turned back to the butler. “Hey, one less thing to dust, right?”
Annie smiled at the girl. She was irresistible, and Smith seemed to think so, too. “I don’t want the table. I just wanted to compliment your taste. But thanks for the offer. It’s thoughtful of you to want to share.”
“Sure. Anytime.”’ Bette looked at Annie. “You’re very nice, you know that?” she asked. Annie smiled.
When Annie asked to use a lavatory, Bette jumped up. “Sure. Come use mine.”
She led her through several suites of rooms to a boudoir that seemed transported from Versailles. Behind a tapestry door, a stunning onyx bathroom was hidden. “It’s got everything you need. Even a pie washer,” Bette said, indicating the bidet. Annie laughed out loud, and Bette joined her.
When Annie was done in the bathroom, Bette was still waiting for her.
She was holding her hands together behind her back, and she looked down at her shoes like a shy six-year-old.
”Listen, do you think after this party some of those babes will like me?” she asked. “I know Lally Snow hates my guts, but you think maybe Mary Griffin or Gunilla Goldberg might come over sometime?”
Annie looked at the girl. “I don’t know, Bette, but I certainly would like to.”’ Bette smiled, her pleasure making her face almost luminous.
“Okay!” she grunted, making one of those victory jerks with her forearm. She led Annie back to Elise, waiting in the drawing room.
“So, what are ya going’ as?”’ Bette had insisted that the event be a costume ball, and though the idea was always unpopular with the men, the women seemed delighted at the chance to don even fancier dress than usual.
“I haven’t had a chance to think about it,” Annie admitted. She actually had no interest in going at all. But the First Wives Club had held a meeting on it. They’d each admitted that they were hesitant to be seen publicly with their new partners. And then they’d decided to take a stand. They’d worked out a costume scheme and had taken a whole table. It might actually be fun.
“How about you, Elise?” Bette asked. “Who’re you going’ as to the party?”
“Maybe I’ll go as an aging movie actress,” Elise said dryly.
“Hey, then I’d go as a retired porn star,” Bette said, laughing. “But it’s a costume party, not come as you are.”’ I Elise blinked, then began to laugh. Annie joined in. The three of them were at it when Bob Bloogee entered the room.
“Well, that’s what I like to be greeted by when I come home. The sight of three beautiful women laughing.”
Elise sat beside her uncle Bob on the south-facing terrace. From her chaise, she could see the East River, Roosevelt Island, and all of Manhattan spread out before her. He was also lying on a chaise longue, all four foot eleven inches of him, carefully reading the Maibeibi file that Elise had given him.